And then Reader, I am married him.

Not really, this isn’t Jane Eyre. But I have been thinking about marriage a lot recently. First of all a friend from university had a birthday which prompted me to send a card, eventually, about a week late. This friend has been with the same guy for 12 years. They have been married for maybe 3. I met him ten years ago and thought he was a cock. He was an arrogant, know-it-all show off and my friend was a vivacious, independent and beautiful woman with a first class degree. Over time she has wilted into an overweight, under-confident alcoholic and has been off work sick for the last year following a drink-driving car crash. She was the drink driver, obviously. She wilted under the glare of his constant criticism, the casual manner in which he gradually isolated her from all her friends and restrained her financially by a constant string of obligations she couldn’t afford, from a wedding in New York to a slightly too expensive house, wrote her car off to prevent her going anywhere and at least on one occasion punched her. According to her blog her life is a perfect canvas of sunshine and rainbows. Baking, gardening and a pet cat, or my ideal lifestyle. One entry she records “I’m such a lucky wife. My husband cleaned the bathroom.” Amazing. Did make me think. Who am I to think her life never reached its glittering potential? Maybe she thinks I’m equally pathetic for never settling down, buying a house, keeping a job for more than a year, keeping a house for more than a year for that matter.

The same day I receive an invite to a wedding in the Lake District. The bride already has two children and is significantly older than the groom. I did wonder why you would choose to have children with one man but not see him as worthy of marriage and then marry another man a decade or so later.

The next event that made me think of marriage was Sunday’s Facebook announcement my cousin is getting married. We’re not a close knit family; I’ve only met her twice. We’ve had more electronic contact than real world contact. She will be getting married in southern Spain in a red and blue dress and honeymooning in Indonesia. December happens to be a wonderful time to have a holiday in Spain. I get a polite email saying “close family only.”

Sunday morning I woke up convinced I was in love with a man I barely know. He is rather good looking, flirty and lovely. He just happens to be in a moderately successful rock band too. And gay. I thought maybe bisexual. He does flirt rather a lot. We have an as yet unfulfilled sushi in soho date. All indicators of bi. Turns out, one msn conversation later, he was stringing me along and is in fact seeing another man in a glam-rock-pop-electroclash outfit. Our relationship may have been pure fantasy but nevertheless I feel crushed and despondent. He takes pity. He has an engaged status on Facebook and needs a name to put after it. Oh why not. All my hopes of not settling for second best have been dashed. I am Facebook engaged to a gay man I have never met. I am total fail.